


the most beautiful thing you could ever spend

by dogf1ght



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, i just need to get back into writing, some small shitty mob au thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:11:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7689430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogf1ght/pseuds/dogf1ght
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>except, pete points out,  it’s a second-hand assassin who can’t be touched who’s in love with some short guy who makes backing tracks for a living in chicago, not aesthetically pleasing lights and west-hollywood and sneaking out with no consequences and short skirts and whatever else quantity tarantio wants to keep in his damn movies these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the most beautiful thing you could ever spend

**Author's Note:**

> title from oh my god by lily allen nd mark ronson. 
> 
> i call this....it's been sitting in my drafts for months and i miss writing. enjoy.

pete’s head comes up from the table. little flecks of white power form a fine dust over the table and his shirt. a halo-like effect rings under his nose, and pete goes to wipe away before it bothers his senses too much.

 

joe, who’s hunched over another table five feet away, is trying to keep all his weed in one  _ fucking _ place, and not caught in the ugly ass carpet that lays under his feet. time is money, and he needs to be done soon if he wants to get full profit out of his beloved junkies. 

 

andy, bless him, is just taking in the sights and smells. girls and guys, all wearing the same amount of clothing (little to nothing) flitter around the large room the three of them reside in. other people, age 17 to 56, move around them, too, but these ones have more direction from the others, who are simply trying to get dealer’s attention.

 

none of them stop around the three guys, though. andy, joe, and pete all have their own significant others that everyone in the club knows are more important than whatever some civilian or sex worker can give them:

 

for the uninvolved pete, he’s content with his simple drugs and his complex business. no romantic or sexual relationship can satisfy him like those can.

 

for the aromantic joe, he’s good with his dogs and his huge paycheck.

 

but with andy, all he’s got is his share of pete’s business, guns, and (although almost nobody knows about it) some guy he’s been pining on for months. 

 

said boy is almost never around, and pete’s only seen him a few times, and never inside his clubs. only in a few record stores and coffee shops throughout michigan, ohio, illinois, and small parts of canada near detroit.

 

in fact, the only time he’s ever really gotten a half decent look at the kid is when pete hosted a closed show three months back. all pete knows about him for sure is that he’s short, pale, pudgy, and has enough social pull to get himself into back-alley bars and low rent clubs, but not enough for the kid to get into a drug-filled gun-filled mansion on a regular tuesday night.

 

gabe saporta, a friend of pete’s and a pain in the ass to everyone else, says the boy is a senior in college studying music production with a minor in general arts. he’s got a soundcloud and a few youtube channels, and plays a few coffee houses every once and awhile (which explains why pete’s only seen him there and in record stores).

 

“name’s patrick. he’s good,” gabe told pete after a weed-fueled handjob. “real good. good ears, too. can make a beat out of anything, ‘nd create tunes outta his ass just like,” then he snapped, or at least tried to. “that,” and then collapsed into a fit of laughter on the carpeted floor. pete later thanked the taller man for the information with another handjob.

what joe knows is also limited. the guy’s short, he’s an “angel on earth,” (a youtube comment on the kid’s cover of some shitty indie song), he’s “got great blowjob lips” (gabe) and andy loves him like the moon loves the sun.

 

the bad news is, hardly anyone ever sees him, and he’s gotta stick out in the crowd, especially at shows. most punk kids are heroin chicks and coked-out almost-homeless boys, some guy who can afford to go to college and pays his taxes every year would  stick out in the crowd of kids who can barely sign their own name due to hands shaking from being under the influence.

 

no one can find him, and it plagues andy’s thoughts until he can put himself to sleep every night with melatonin pills.

 

“i feel like a protagonist in a shitty teen movie,” he tells the guys one night after not seeing his crush for a whole month.

 

except, pete points out,  it’s a second-hand assassin who can’t be touched who’s in love with some short guy who makes backing tracks for a living in chicago, not aesthetically pleasing lights and west-hollywood and sneaking out with no consequences and short skirts and whatever else quantity tarantio wants to keep in his damn movies these days.

  
andy blows smoke wistfully into the air, watching the grey dissipate into to clear air. he doesn’t say anything else, but feels the sigh is more a response any words could give. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is really short and shitty but i wanted to post again before the debate season went into full swing and i got caught up in everything. and pls leave kudos/comment/let me know how u like it


End file.
